Simplicity
by Wordsorcereress
Summary: When they passed their bedroom without pause Cloud instantly knew that they were headed to Leon's little workshop in their attic. The usually sunny little room covered in Leon's stuff just as the garage was littered with Cloud's; Cloud's lips turned up in a slight smile as they opened the attic door; this was Leon's space, and Leon was a private man, Cloud was rarely invited inside


Leon stank of paint. Cloud wrinkled his nose as he pulled away from the warm, welcoming, one-armed hug, Leon's clean scent covered in acrylic and an assortment of chemicals he hadn't witnessed to this extreme since they repainted the house. "Been busy?" he asked as he propped his sword by the door, the last traces of darkness evaporating from the blade as if banished in the oasis of his shared home.

Cloud got his answer, but it wasn't how he expected to discover the reason.

Leon took his hand and tugged on it, not even caring that Cloud hadn't removed his boots or armour. Cloud looked into his handsome face, and Leon gave him a secretive smile, "I have something to show you," his usually confident voice a little shy in the quiet of the hallway.

The blond tilted his head, but Leon took his hands again and lead him upstairs. When they passed their bedroom without pause Cloud instantly knew that they were headed to Leon's little workshop in their attic. The usually sunny little room covered in Leon's stuff just as the garage was littered with Cloud's; Cloud's lips turned up in a slight smile as they opened the attic door; this was Leon's space, and Leon was a private man, Cloud was rarely invited inside.

Leon directed him to the centre of the room, letting his hand go while he waited by the door for Cloud to see it. His mouth curved in a nervous smile as his partner of five years stepped around the easel and took his first look. Cloud peered at him in confusion before taking the final step and pulled the blanket off of the canvas.

* * *

 _In the sunny little attic room, standing innocently among canvases and paint, was a well-loved easel. On the accompanying stool, sitting serenely with paint all over his arms and a brush in his hand, was Leon himself._

 _By the door, Cloud watched him. Leon was very absorbed. Cloud had been standing there for several minutes and Leon had not once looked up. It wasn't like the older warrior at all, to allow himself to be snuck up on. The slight frown of concentration and the subtle sound of a paintbrush against the canvas was hypnotising, tranquil. So different to what Leon's intense presence was normally like. Cloud glanced away, aware that he had been staring, but found himself smiling nonetheless at how complex Leon was under the surface._

 _Cloud knocked on the door and finally announced his presence._

 _Leon looked up, blinked and put his brush down, "Do you need something?"_

 _Cloud shrugged, glancing about the room as if he had just arrived, "My red toolbox is missing, Fenrir needs a tune up."_

 _The brunet warrior pointed to the toolbox helping to prop up some unused canvases and Cloud muttered some soft thanks as he went to retrieve it. Their new house was being repaired all over, it wasn't unusual for some of their belongings to be misplaced. But, while he was over, he took a peek at Leon's work._

 _He stood behind Leon and his eyes widened at the painting that could have been a photograph had it not breathed with a life of its own. Sunlight cheerily caught long brown hair, a dress billowed and flowed in an invisible wind, a smile that made Cloud feel warm automatically though it was just a painting: "Aerith …"_

 _Leon nodded the once, tucking his instruments away nonchalantly, "Her birthday's in a few weeks."_

 _Despite knowing that it was wet with paint Cloud wanted to touch it, his hand hovered over the top of the canvas. Leon scowled and batted his hand away. Cloud respectfully listened, "You have a good eye for these things."_

 _His housemate hummed and his expression turned inquiring for a moment, "Do you think she'll like it?"_

 _Cloud snorted, smirking at the ridiculous question! "No doubt. She likes it when people make things for her," Cloud tucked his hand in his pocket to resist the temptation to touch the portrait's hair. Incredible, he was somehow caught up in her smile and this wasn't even the real her!_

 _He spotted Leon giving him an unreadable look. Cloud looked away, a little stiffly as he realised how comfortable they had gotten despite having lived together for less than a week, "If you're trying to talk me into being your model then you can get lost. You look like you need complex subjects to give you a challenge anyway."_

 _Leon snorted then he asked with the utmost seriousness: "You think you're not a complex subject?"_

 _Nodding with conviction, Cloud glanced over Aerith's portrait again and crossed his arms, "There's not that much to me. Best stick to those who'll appreciate the art too," he held up the toolbox to excuse himself. He left the artistic corner with the red metal box, but also a companion in tow to help tune the impressive bike in the garage._

 _That was the end of that. Until …_

* * *

Cloud's first thought when he saw the painting was that it was not what he had come to expect from Leon.

He wasn't sure what he was looking at to start with. There was an overwhelming number of colours splashed, blotted, distorted, and deliberately coated across the canvas. Every colour from azure blues to dull golds, from shimmering silver-greys to vibrant blood red, and a rainbow and a half more in variations of brilliance and shades. It was such an unorthodox assortment. Conceivably, none of it should have worked together, yet every artistic shade harmonised so well it moved Cloud just to witness it.

It was incredible!

Cloud stared longer, absorbed in the rise and flow, and change of the colours … when something suddenly jumped out at him. In the chaos and harmony, in a shade of light brown, there was a _nose_.

He blinked. As soon as he recognised the shape for what it was he followed the shape to a pair of eyes, full lips, and hair that starkly stood out now he knew what it was.

There! The silhouette under the multiple layers, dark and vague. Hidden under all the layers of life and colour like a shadow was the base.

He followed the line of a jaw, the gentle curl of an eyelash and was just recognising the shape of an earring when his stomach dropped through the floor-

It couldn't be–

He took an unsteady step closer, eyes wide as he took in the painting in its entirety. The vibrant, rich, incredible painting couldn't be _him_. No one could possibly see him like this, he wasn't colourful or bright or vibrant – and yet as Cloud looked closer he realised it was like a mirror. A mirror that reflects in technicolour, but a mirror all the same.

It _is_ him. Undeniably.

A trembling finger reaches out to touch the delicate flicks of his own eyelashes, each stroke a different shade of chartreuse, spidery thin and delicate. His heart pounded in his chest. Was he still breathing?

He looked wordlessly at Leon, mouth working a few times but no words came out.

Leon shrugged, his shoulders tense and his arms locked across his chest as his stiffly moved. "I … I've been working on that for the past five years." To Cloud, the murmured confession was louder than the pounding of his heart.

Leon entered the room and stood before the canvas with Cloud, a fond look in his eyes, "What do you think?"

Cloud's uncooperative mouth finally managed to splutter: "Why did you paint me like this?" his breathing was unsteady as he spoke, looking pointedly at the other paintings stored in this room and how absurdly different his portrait was compared to every other and their photographic excellence.

Leon shifted in place, his cheeks turning slowly pink, "I called it _'Simplicity'_." Leon said instead, Cloud raising an eyebrow at how unsuitable the name was for the portrait.

Silver eyes caught his expression and he looked pleased, "Exactly." He touched the corner of the canvas, a tremble in his hands as he breathed and blushed, and stalled in finishing his thoughts. "You once said that you weren't a complex subject, but you couldn't have been more wrong." He looked at the five-year masterpiece, the compilation of their relationship from acquaintances to lovers, growing more complex and lively the longer time went on. "You may have been told what you are your whole life, but whoever taught you that you were so easy to describe clearly didn't know you at all. I wanted to show you that … that you're not as simple as they wanted you to be …"

Touched, unbelievably moved beyond words, Cloud merely wrapped his arms around Leon and drew his head down for a passionate kiss.

Pulling back shyly, aware that their emotions were close to the surface, Cloud murmured, "All _this_ ," he pointed at _'Simplicity'_ and felt his heart jump all over again because someone, _his someone_ , saw him like that, and that was incredible. He looked up at Leon's patient smile "All this to prove a point?"

Leon laughed and pressed their foreheads together. "Welcome home."


End file.
